


Worst lasagna of my life

by DangerRollins



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-11 23:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerRollins/pseuds/DangerRollins
Summary: Michonne drags Rick to a cooking class.





	Worst lasagna of my life

"This is stupid," Rick sighed, placing his hands on his hips as he glanced around the room. He felt out of place as he took in his bright surroundings. The walls were a deep red color and the numerous tables and cooking stations placed around the room were made of shiny, light wood. There were about twenty other people in the room, all of them either old grandmas, soccer moms, or teenage girls. They were all shorter than him, smaller than him, and a whole other gender than him. He stuck out like a sore thumb and he clearly wasn't the only one that noticed that. The teens giggled as they pointed at him, whispering amongst themselves, probably wondering what the hell old officer Grimes was doing in a cooking class. The soccer moms sent him waves and winks, giggling amongst themselves as well, and the slightly more tolerable grandmas had made it their business to squeeze his cheeks, run their fingers through his curly hair and make him do a full 360 turn so they could 'See if he'd been eating right.' Most of them agreed that he hadn't as they talked about needing to fatten him up some more before sending him on his way. "I already know how to cook, I don't need to take a class for it." He grumbled.

Michonne waved him off as she leaned against their counter, eyeing all the cooking supplies sprawled out across it. If she knew anything about cooking, it would seem they were going to be baking something today. Maybe a cake or a pie or...Brownies. Damn, she could use some brownies right about now. "The only thing you know how to make is breakfast. The rest is all fast food and TV dinners, and considering the fact that you have two growing children, you're gonna need to learn how to make a little more than that. Besides, this is gonna be fun! I've been here a few times, and the teacher is really good at his job! He can be a little...Harsh, maybe a bit crude and definitely borderline psychotic, but he's nice enough when you talk to him for long enough." She shrugged her shoulders carelessly as he looked at her.

"This is embarrassing," Rick shook his head. "Carl thinks it's lame that his dad is taking a class just to learn how to sauté or whatever the shit you do in here, and I agree! This is a waste of time and—"

"A waste of time?" Michonne raised a brow as she stood to her full height again, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. "When you're not working, all you do is play with Judith or lose video games to Carl or lay on the couch, drink beer and watch football all day. "

"That's not true and you know it." Rick glared. "I hang out with Daryl too, every other Sunday."

Michonne rolled her eyes and turned away from him again. "You are pathetic, Rick Grimes, and who the hell would I be if I didn't remind you of that as often as I can?"

Rick stayed silent and pouted. Michonne had dragged him here with good intentions—To get him off of his couch and into the real world of socializing with other people about cookies and Caesar salads or whatever the hell they'd be making in here—but he still wished he was literally anywhere else.

Rick wasn't interested at all until another man came in, tall, lean, and wearing a tight leather jacket. He was already sweating and Rick would've been weirded out if he wasn't. It was hot as hell outside just as it usually was on sunny summer days in King County, and Rick couldn't help but think that'd he'd be sweating even more in a few minutes when all their ovens and stoves were turned on. "He's gonna pass out," Rick muttered to Michonne. "What was he thinking wearing something like that on a day like this? He must've gotten out of bed and thought 'hm, today's a great day to have a heat stroke.'" Rick rolled his eyes and Michonne shook her head. "Why're you so bitchy today? Did Carl finally piss in your cereal like I told him to?"

Before he could respond, the man was strutting right over to them and tapping Michonne's shoulder. "Mich', my favorite student! You look gorgeous as ever—" and it went on like that for a few minutes. The guy feeding Michonne compliments and Michonne blushing and chit chatting with him, til finally, Rick cleared his throat so his presence would be noticed as well. Negan looked at him with a blank face at first and then a smile slowly crept onto his handsome face and he leaned back. "Well, well, well...Fresh meat."

Rick was over this class already. This guy would've looked like he flew straight from the movie grease if he was thirty years younger.

"Rick. My name's Rick Grimes." He introduced himself, unamused. "You get dragged to this stupid class too?"

Michonne elbowed him in the stomach causing him to groan and bend over, and the man chuckled. "Oh, that's alright Michonne. A man has the right to think that another man's cooking class is stupid."

Then it made sense. Why the hell else would teenage girls be taking a cooking class? They could learn to cook from their parents at home. Why would all the single soccer moms be here? They all knew how to cook already. Why would the old ladies be here? They damn for sure had to know how to cook already.

Rick thought about how the room had grown quiet as soon as the man had walked in. The ladies practically lined up to greet him, and he made sure to give each of them some attention before he'd made his way back to Michonne and his table.

"I'm Negan," the man introduced himself. Before Rick could say anything, Negan had strutted off toward the front of the room and was already beginning class.

"Okay ladies—" he looked at Rick. "—And Rick." Rick looked down and pretended to be busy with some utensil he didn't know the name of. "Today we're gonna keep it simple. Choose what you wanna bake. It's either triple layered cake or a three-cheese lasagna."

Simple? Rick didn't think so.

***  
"This is quite simply the worst lasagna I've ever tasted in my long ass life! Do you know how impressive that is, Rick? I've tasted a lot of terrible lasagnas in my long ass life!"

Negan was practically yelling and most of the ladies were doubled over, unable to pay attention to their own dishes as they giggled so hard. Michonne included. Rick didn't look Negan directly in the eyes, just stared past his shoulder with a snarl on his face. Rick thought the purpose of this class was to **teach** him how to cook and how to make lasagna that **wasn't** the worst, but apparently, he was wrong. And if his opinion meant anything at all, his lasagna wasn't all that bad. Over salted and a little burnt? Yeah. The worst? One of the grandmas had to have him beat. She'd burned hers til it was black as coal and the whole room stunk because of it, yet he'd made the biggest effort to tell her she'd do better next time and even went as far as taking a bite out of it and pretending it tasted good.

"I'm sorry I called your class stupid," Rick muttered lowly with clenched teeth as he looked down and put his hands on his hips, his facial expression conveying his annoyance, but he didn't want Negan to see that.

"You think I'm calling your lasagna the worst I've ever had because you called my class stupid? Damn, Rick, you're as dumb as you are pretty! I don't give a shit about you calling my class stupid! You're stupid for calling my class stupid! That's beside the point here. The point is, your lasagnas the worst lasagna in the history of lasagna!" Negan chuckled out half his words and yelled the other ones.

Rick sucked on his teeth as he finally looked directly at the asshole teacher, shaking his head from side to side as he narrowed his eyes. "Okay, alright, you Gordon Ramsay wannabe, you think my lasagnas so bad? You fix it somehow, chef know it all."

Rick felt like he was back in the first grade. Why the hell was this conversation even happening?

"Ain't no fixing that, sweetheart, when you put that much salt in something, it's over with!" Negan threw up his hands before walking toward Michonne. "Darlin, your cake was the best in the class! Rick could learn a thing or two from you."

"Baking a cake and making a lasagna isn't anywhere near the same thing, **Negan**." Rick spat before looking at a smug looking Michonne. "With a few more classes, you'll be able to do something as simple as baking a cake then? Is that what you're saying?" She grinned.

She was crazy to think that he'd be coming back after this, and apparently Negan agreed.

"Rick won't be coming back to my class." He shook his head.

"What, the lasagna was so bad that you're kicking me out for good?" Rick questioned. Negan let out a snort. "Course not! Me and you both know you won't be coming back because you're embarrassed that you suck at cooking and you don't wanna have to face me again!"

Negan was right, that and the fact that Rick hadn't wanted to show up in the first place, but Rick couldn't let this asshole be right so he **did** show up again. Many times.

The next class went a little smoother. Another easy class, they were making ice cream and finger sandwiches. How could he mess up a finger sandwich?

"Too much mayo." Negan complained.

Next class was not so easy. They were making a steak dinner. Rick was positive that he wouldn't be able to make the dish to perfection because he'd barely skated by the previous week and that had to have been the easiest possible thing to make. It was literally just a sandwich. Negan must've felt the exact same way because he'd forced Rick to work beside him up at the front.

"Why does he get to work with you?!" One of the jealous soccer moms complained. "I've been asking you to help me for weeks!"

"Darlin, your dishes are great and you don't need help. Ricks a different story. If I leave him to do this by himself he might just burn the whole place down."

Everyone had laughed at that, something they did quite often in this class.

"Now first things first, we're gonna cut up some carrots. You take the knife and—"

"I know how to cut carrots."

He did not, apparently. He cut his finger the first time he even tried to get the knife through the carrot. "Rick," Negan had sighed. "Do not bleed in my class. There's a rule against that."

The next class had been pretty interesting. Not because of the food, but because Negan had said something that caught Rick off guard. More than the things he usually said did.

"I need you to try harder here, Rick. I can't possibly date somebody who doesn't know the difference between basil and cilantro."

What did that have to do with—what did he say?

Rick looked around quickly to make sure no one heard, and they hadn't. Rick and Negan were up at the front behind Negan's counter again and everyone else was chatting amongst themselves at their own counters.

"What are you talking about?" Rick whispered.

"I'm talking about the fact that you don't know the difference between—"

"What does it matter if you don't date people who don't know the difference between basil and cilantro?"

"Like I said before, Rick, you're as pretty as you are dumb," Negan smirked. "I've been flirting with you this whole time. Since the first class."

" **Flirting with me?** " Rick nearly laughed but he was too busy being shocked to do that. "You've been berating me constantly!"

"Same thing." Negan shrugged.

" **Not** the same thing—"

"Come on a date with me, Rick. It can be at my house. You already know I'm a good cook."

"...Okay."

Rick liked to argue and he was pretty damn stubborn, but he was intrigued and he couldn't deny the fact that he did wanna go on a date. It'd been a while, and if it had to be Negan he went out with then so be it. Besides, Negan had proven to be a pretty interesting guy, and Rick wanted to know why the hell he was the way he was. "It's a date." Rick shrugged.

"Mission accomplished!" Michonne screamed, making them both jump. When she'd gotten so close to them, neither of them knew.


End file.
